Not That Kind of Doctor
by Serenitychan13
Summary: Spencer Reid has had a girlfriend for some time now - there is quite a growing series being written about them! A while back, Spencer came down with the creeping crud. Now, his girlfriend Lorraine is sick and it's his turn to play Doctor Reid. But Lorraine is a Doctor too and she doesn't make a good patient. Spencer/OC - don't like, don't read.
1. The First Step

**Disclaimer: **_**Y'all, it is after 1:30 in the morning right now, so why don't we just cut the crap? You know it doesn't belong to me. I know it doesn't belong to me. Lorraine and her animal buddies belong to me, and you know what? You can use them if and ONLY if you ask me nicely.**_

Ch. 1 – The First Step

Spencer Reid trooped up out of the Metro stop nearest his girlfriend's apartment, the normal crowd of people jostling along with him. For once in a ridiculously long while, he had a Friday night that would not be occupied with the worst humanity had to offer. Even rarer, but happening nonetheless: his free weekend evenings would not be occupied with comic books, chess, or theoretical physics. If he weren't reasonably sure it would get him put up in a nice safe room, he might dance and whistle! The February afternoon gleamed in pale winter sun, crisp with a touch of wind. He and Lorraine had been together nearly seven months and it still sort of blew his mind that he had a girlfriend. Perhaps it mostly had to do with his crazy schedule but he appreciated more than most a spontaneous free Friday.

The genius strode up the way and waved happily to the security gentleman, who nodded in return and watched him go on by. Spencer had even braced for impact from Hawkeye – seven months in had not changed the dog's reaction to anyone being at the door. A short walk had the tall, thin man standing outside his girlfriend's door. Under one arm, he had his satchel tucked up close. His idea of a good random stay-in date night included his old N-64 (the clear green one) and Pokémon Stadium. Of course, he brought Pokémon Snap as a decent back-up. He and Lorraine had bonded probably more nights than a grown man should admit over first-gen Pokémon material. She still had her old Game Boy Color and had actually managed to beat him a few times over the com-link cable! Damn the weakness of Charizard against electric-types!

He raised a confident hand and knocked instead of pushing the doorbell. It didn't really off-set the explosion of dog noise from the other side of the door that resulted immediately. Barking and clattering, the gigantic Landseer charged down the front hallway. From the sound of it, the dog-monster collided with the solid slab of wood at top speed. A moment after, though, Spencer tilted his head at the frosted glass in the center of the door and frowned in concern. Normally, Lorraine ran hot on the dog's heels, trying to shove him out of the way so she could address whoever was on her front step. He gave it a second and knocked again. More barking answered him.

"Lorraine?" he called through the door when he heard a muffled thump like a person hitting a wall rather heavily. "Is everything all right?"

This time, a human voice did answer him – it sounded like a very upset Doctor Lorraine Quinn. Had he come at a bad time? Spencer took a large step back as the door opened. Hawkeye had become locked in a wrestling match with a moving pile of yellow blanket and long red hair. Remembering what Lorraine said about letting the door stand open, Reid stepped in, shut the door, and waited. The blanket-pile ousted the giant dog from the front hallway by leaning on him. When it stood up and revealed itself to be, in fact, Spencer's girlfriend, he nearly dropped his satchel.

She looked awful, but he knew damn well better than to tell her that. Her normally olive-skinned face had gone almost as pale as his, and his color worried JJ at least weekly! Hawkeye returned and his human mama did not protest, leaning on the dog's withers. Spencer had gone from mildly concerned to more than worried in the blink of an eye – his girlfriend had to lean on her dog for support. That could not be good. As if approaching a frightened animal, the big bad BAU profiler (he mentally snorted at his own stupid description) inched closer to his girlfriend.

Up close, her condition looked worse. She had obviously put on makeup something like two days ago, from the deterioration of the cosmetics on her face. Her lips had lost almost all their color, dry and pale except for the remnants of chewed-off lipstick. Black and purple liner and shadow caked in haphazard streaks around her eyes, which looked hollow and sunken. That red hair he loved so much had been freed from its ever-present braid to hang in tangled snarls to her hips. Trembling hands held a ratty yellow Polarfleece blanket tightly around her shoulders – he knew better than to touch that. It was then Spencer noticed the sweltering heat inside the apartment.

"Lorraine… sweetheart," He began – he still thought he sounded awkward using terms of endearment, but it made his girlfriend smile. "What's going on? Is everything all right?"

At first, only a gurgling little croak came out of her mouth, causing Spencer to step back reflexively in case she threw up.

"Been sick," she told him after she regrouped, gripping Hawkeye's back-fluff to keep herself steady. Good therapy dog that he was, the Landseer stood obligingly. "Fucking sucks…"

Lorraine swore a lot when… Well, okay, Lorraine just swore a lot. If she knew there were children about, she tried to put a lid on it, but other than that, the speech therapist had no mouth filter. For whatever reason Spencer would not allow him to psychologically identify, he found it unavoidably endearing. However, right now, he had to get out of his own head and take care of his girlfriend, whose knees shook disturbingly. She had been sick for heaven knows how long now and…

"Have you not seen a doctor?" he blurted out, reaching out a hand to Lorraine's shoulder – she shivered all over, despite the heat. That contact shifted so he could wrap that arm around her upper back. Hawkeye shuffled off to the side as his mama leaned on Spencer instead. When he laid a hand on her forehead, he observed "You have a fever."

"No," she grunted at him, swaying on her feet.

He set his satchel down on the side table in the front hallway and made an executive decision: like it or not, Lorraine didn't need to be standing up anymore. She gave him a half-hearted shove in protest as, in a surprisingly bold move, he thought, he lifted her into his arms. A few more grumbles, a baleful glare, and she settled against him. Every time Spencer found himself lucky enough to hold her, it never failed to surprise him, her tiny little frame. Still not comfortable going into her bedroom without being asked, he made for the couch. A victim or unsub's home was one thing, but a girlfriend was a very different matter. He settled Lorraine carefully on the couch and pulled the blanket down off the back to drape over her bare knees. The blanket had moved during the shift, revealing what passed for pajamas with her – a Hello Kitty tank top she'd had since she was thirteen and purple cotton shorts. The redhead curled up miserably against the cushions.

Spencer went and retrieved his satchel, not trusting enough to leave it for long out of his sight with Everett in the house. The fur-ball had proven nowhere to be seen thus far, but held a record for "single animal to have urinated on the most of Spencer Reid's possessions." Setting that on the floor near an end table, the profiler returned and seated himself on the couch with Lorraine. She tried her best to stay bundled up in her blanket, but attempted to scoot over beside him. When her balance gave out and she fell over sideways, it didn't take a genius to pull her in close to his side. Taking it a little further, Lorraine draped herself over Spencer's lap, a little bundle of Polarfleece and body heat. A few wisps of hair stuck to her forehead with a light film of sweat.

"How long has this been going on?" the profiler pushed a little bit, sensing that Lorraine had discovered a skinny new pillow and wouldn't move for a while.

At first, he only heard a muffled string of word-like sounds that he took to be more cursing.

"I'm fine," Lorraine told him when he pulled down the blanket she yanked over her head. "Used to get this in high school…"

Somehow, it only worried Spencer _more _that this had happened before! Surely, she knew how to see about it now, right? One hand released the edge of her blanket and wrapped itself up in the front of his shirt. She felt frighteningly hot against him. Careful hands draped that curtain of snarled red hair back off her neck and face. With her eyes closed, Lorraine leaned into her boyfriend's touch, grateful for his preternaturally soft, cool hands. No matter what she tried to tell him, she felt like rot – her insides had gone on the warpath. Nothing if not tenacious when he had to be, Spencer continued to nudge at his girlfriend. He had trained in this kind of thing, so there was no reason he shouldn't be able to just find out how long she had been like this!

"Come on, I just want to help you," he encouraged, trying to untangle the ends of her hair with his fingers. She grabbed the length away from him and held it to her chest like a beloved plush animal, glaring up at him with her mouth shut. Spencer couldn't give up, not with her like this. "Lorraine, you have to trust me – I'm a doctor."

At first, she tried to continue glaring at him, her big green eyes flashing at him as he had become quite used to, but it turned out she couldn't help a snort of laughter.

"Spencer, I'm a doctor too," she reminded him, though she failed at keeping the dripping sarcasm in her voice. Her lips twitched in a smile almost despite her. "And I say I'm fine!"

Smiling wryly, the genius shifted his girlfriend up so he could kiss her forehead, the skin there still shockingly hot.

"You're not _that _kind of doctor," he reminded her, trying to keep a clamp on the urge to smile like a total nut job as she nestled her head on his shoulder. "Nice try, though."

Lorraine swallowed hard as her internal organs – nearly all of them – lurched unpleasantly and she fought back a serious faux pas.

"You're not either," she pointed out, hiding her face against his throat. Her muffled voice ordered, "Now lemme sleep…"

Spencer rolled his eyes, but did not remove his girlfriend from her new position – it was plenty comfortable for both of them. Maybe letting her take a quick nap before he started seriously harping on her to see a doctor wouldn't hurt. Toe-claws clicked on the floor and signaled Hawkeye's approach before the giant dog joined his human mama and her special friend on the couch. For once, the BAU's star prodigy didn't mind the addition. He had read a great deal about animal empathy and the use of therapy animals with victims of violent crime since dating Lorraine.

"Hey, big fella," the profiler addressed the dog, reaching carefully over his sleepy girlfriend to ruffle the fluffy ears. He withdrew a drool-coated hand after a swipe from the big pink tongue, wiping the slime on his pants. "Think you can help me talk your mama into seeing a doctor?"

Squirming, Lorraine lifted her head just enough to bring her lips level with her boyfriend's ear.

"Trying to use my own dog against me, huh?" she rasped at him with a touch of laughter in her voice – her illness hadn't quite killed her mood. "You learn that in the FBI? Messed up, dude…"

The redhead pulled away from Spencer's warm neck and turned to face her big fuzzy baby, smiling and laughing a bit more as the dog licked her face. Helpfully, her boyfriend's hands held her hair away from her cheeks as the sloppy wet tongue coated her until Hawkeye felt satisfied. Lorraine felt fine for a couple seconds, using both hands to swipe dog spit from her eyes. However, as soon as she got a look at her own hands, they started to tremble. As unpleasant heat settled over her like someone had broken a raw egg on her head, she started struggling to get up. Spencer tried to hold her still, but she elbowed him in the ribs, grunted a "_sorry!_" as she half-fell off the couch, and ran from the room. The profiler's ears picked up the same sound as when he first turned up, confirming its source. His girlfriend had her equilibrium screwed up so badly that she bounced off random things in the hall.

Spencer wrinkled his nose when he heard the bathroom door slam, swearing in surprise as Hawkeye let him have a big slimy kiss. He shoved the dog, but it proved ineffectual – the Landseer probably outweighed him, now that he thought about it. Granted, it probably would turn out better if he stayed right where he sat. Lorraine had proved again and again that if she wanted help, regardless of whether she _needed _it, she would ask for it. In a few moments, after her commode flushed several times and he deliberately closed his ears to the aftermath, the bathroom door opened again. The sound of a body clattering down the hall reprised itself. In seconds, his girlfriend reappeared, Lorraine's face devoid of all natural color and tears of pain and embarrassment streaming down her face.

"Spencer…" she sniffled, her arms wrapped tightly around her thin body. "I'm really sick."

Hawkeye shifted his bulk down off the couch, providing the only reason Reid could get up at all. He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled the shaking redhead close, her head tucking in just the right place against his chest. His fingers stroked as best they could through her tangled hair, for a moment just holding the red waves up off her neck again. Inclining his head, he exhaled a gentle, cooling breath against her sweaty skin. For a long while, they simply stood there while Lorraine got her bearings, and then Spencer pulled back just to tilt her face up to him.

"Well, the first step is admitting there's a problem," he tried to joke. "Now come on, you need to see a doctor."

Lorraine shook her head, pulling away from her boyfriend and tottering back to the couch. He didn't even have the heart to argue as she just fell to the cushions on her side. Clutching hands pulled the yellow fleece blanket up to her shoulders. Hawkeye planted himself in front of the couch on the rug, looking up at his mama with big sad eyes. Defeated for the moment, Spencer joined the redhead and fell back to regroup. Neither of them needed for her to get upset at the moment.

"Lorraine, you worry me," he told her softly, stroking her cheek. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

She had already curled into the blanket.


	2. Manic Panic

**Disclaimer: **_**It wasn't mine last time and it's not mine now. Sadly enough, it never will be! The only bit of this that's mine is Lorraine and her critter buddies. If you would like to use them in your own work, please ask me nicely. I like to be asked nicely just like Pepper Potts likes to be handed things. That man's first name is "Agent."**_

Ch. 2 – Manic Panic

At some point, he must have drifted off too, Spencer Reid realized as he reached for his girlfriend and found an extremely irritated cat in his lap instead. Everett hissed, swatting the hand the stupid human used to push him back to the floor. Reid cracked his neck noisily before looking around in mild confusion – it had only been about half an hour, he discovered upon looking at his watch. He sensed something wrong. Before he closed his eyes, his girlfriend Lorraine had been curled up beside him on the couch like an infant, unable to move due to getting massively sick just moments ago. She wasn't even in the living room, he discovered, but he could hear loud music from down the hallway. "One Week" by the Barenaked Ladies blasted each lyric clearly through the air. Something in his gut warned him that, even with the one song it was impossible to frown at, this did not bode well.

The profiler followed the music until he discovered it came from Lorraine's bedroom – like that was a big surprise, he thought sarcastically. Without knocking, he twisted the knob and cautiously opened the door. Almost immediately, the initial confusion that hit him over the head got swept away by worry. There, in the center of the room, Lorraine danced her little heart out to the too-loud music, seemingly unaware that she had just been horrendously ill. However, Spencer's quick eyes could see that she was still far from being at all well. Two giant spots of bright red illuminated her cheeks, making the rest of her look ghastly pale. She smiled at him when she saw him watching, but he could only see her cracked lips and fever-bright eyes. It concerned him most that she did not seem _able _to stop her frenetic motion. Her movements were nowhere near as quick and coordinated as they obviously should have been.

"Don't look at me like that!" Lorraine snapped at him when she noticed him looking, though she sounded playful. "I told you, I feel fine! I think it was just a little bug."

Her lips formed a pout as she turned to face her boyfriend – she could tell he didn't believe her for a second. Only wavering a little bit, dismissing it without a thought, the redhead stepped over to wrap her arms around her boyfriend. Okay, so she ended up with just her hands on his shoulders when she figured out that standing up on her toes wasn't going to happen… It might take her a minute to regain her balance, she figured. Spencer let his hands come to rest on her hips, looking down at her flushed face and worrying even more. His brain supplied him with a list of things she could possibly have, causing him to wish he had listened to Morgan just this once. Sitting around reading up on everything that could go wrong with the human body might just make one paranoid. Sensing his moment of weakness, Lorraine smiled up at him.

"Come on, Spencer," she nudged at him, trying the classic _don't worry about it_ smile – it would have succeeded if she had color in her lips. "Let's order Chinese and find something to _do! _I don't want to just sit around all day!"

Something about this screamed disaster to Spencer, but he still couldn't shake the psychological affliction that left him unable to say no to redheads in general, and his girlfriend in particular. He opened his mouth to argue, shut it again, and let her lead the way from her bedroom. Maybe he could at least dissuade her from the Chinese food. The two dodged Hawkeye, drooling on the rug as he snored heavily, and Lorraine returned to the couch, kicking her feet up onto one arm. This time, Spencer joined her with a more genuine smile, thinking perhaps it had just been a whim.

"Do you think maybe you'd prefer Japanese?" he tried to suggest lightly. Lorraine twitched her nose to one side and looked up at him backwards. "Not as greasy and Japanese foods like miso soup and white rice have at least anecdotal evidence that they'll settle an uneasy stomach."

The redhead smiled up at her genius boyfriend – it still tickled her to death when he went on like that, especially since she had a tendency to do it herself. She reached up to play with his hair, sprawled out on her couch like they were kids in high school. Spencer couldn't help smiling down at her because, when she smiled like that, it did make him think maybe it had just been a mild virus. Her green eyes did look a little brighter. After a moment, Everett joined them, but on the opposite end of the couch, still staring big gold daggers at his human's… other human.

"You know, I think that'll work," Lorraine decided, kicking her legs up and tumbling her way, half-gracefully, off the couch. She stumbled a little, sighed in exasperation as Spencer started off the couch, and deliberately loped from the room as she told him over her shoulder, "Let me get dressed. There's a little place not far from here."

Lorraine had emerged from her room in a pair of very old, faded jeans and a long-sleeved gray Jersey cotton top over which she had pulled a pink T-shirt bearing the lyrics of "Soft Kitty." Other than that, she had made no effort to change her appearance. The eye makeup remnants and tangled hair remained and they were noticeable. She flopped down on her couch again, yanking on a pair of black Converses that Spencer privately thought of as biohazards. Seriously, even Hawkeye wouldn't touch them, and if he didn't have something in his mouth, he wasn't happy. The dog snuffled in the direction of the shoes. Another shining smile flashed over in the profiler's direction, distracting him, and he ran one hand through his hair while she retrieved her black leather jacket.

"Mind if we drive?" she asked by way of dangling her keys in front of his nose. "It's not far, but it's cold!"

Spencer had a feeling that wasn't a terrific idea, but again, arguing with her probably wouldn't get him anywhere. He followed her out to the silver Civic and they had their usual hip-bump fight – seven months and still he hadn't stopped trying to open doors for her. This time, though, she actually put weight on the hand he offered to help her in. The profiler made sure not to let Lorraine know that he noticed. Of course she didn't _need_ the help, he could hear her in his head, but she knew it made him feel better and she liked holding his hand! The redhead smiled and started the car, unlocking the side door and giggling as Spencer crunched himself into the front seat.

Long, thin fingers gripped the '_oh shit_'handle for dear life. Lorraine drove like a legitimate crazy person – Spencer couldn't remember being this afraid in the car with his mother! Even Garcia could operate a motor vehicle without the profiler's internal organs all migrating up into his throat. He even yelled in fear a couple times as the Civic took corners on two wheels. Laughing at the way Spencer's cheeks went from pale to purple, Lorraine told her boyfriend she had learned to drive from a drift racer. Only a whimper escaped him at this revelation, his hand clenching as if having a seizure on the hand-grip when his girlfriend took the little silver car skidding into the parking lot. How the hell did she manage to keep the thing contained in _one _parking space?

"I love this place!" the redhead chirped happily, shutting off the car and shoving the door open with her foot after pulling the handle. She looked over her shoulder at Spencer – he hadn't moved since the car stopped. "Are you okay?"

He had gotten in a vehicle with her the day they met and it hadn't been that traumatic an experience – nowhere near as bad as being in the car with Morgan. Today, Lorraine drove as though she had never before encountered a brake pedal. She ran at least three intersections, happily declaring "Cop didn't see it, I didn't do it!" Spencer had to restrain himself from screaming at the top of his lungs "I'M IN THE FBI!" It wouldn't have helped, he didn't guess. For the moment, he just had to force himself to let go of the safety handle and try to get his breathing under control. As soon as he had his hand unclenched, he couldn't get out of the vehicle fast enough!

"Lorraine, I am seriously begging you," he choked out once he had both size 12's flat on the ground and the door shut after him. "Please, let me drive back!"

A set of keys attached to way too many key-chains sailed through the air in his direction and he had no idea how he actually caught them. He bet he couldn't do it again in a million years. Lorraine smiled and skipped to the door, getting there first and holding it open for him. Spencer tried his best not to stagger to the door, his knees feeling like Jell-O after that car ride. He felt it best to keep his mouth shut as his girlfriend greeted the hostess and led the way to the table. If he opened it, he might just upchuck as well! The young Asian lady who introduced herself as Jennifer seated Lorraine and watched with some apprehension as Spencer folded into a chair – he probably looked crazy again. They both told Jennifer they just wanted water to drink and she went off to retrieve it.

Lunch went by with Lorraine chattering at a breakneck pace about anything that happened to pop into her head. She had forgone the rice and gotten a double-order of miso soup. All through the meal, Spencer watched his girlfriend's face carefully. She swallowed harder each time, her face growing paler and green eyes watering. Despite the obvious physical changes, her manic pace didn't slow for a hot minute. He wondered how she managed to keep this up without being sick again, or worse – she looked like a sudden breeze might knock her down. Somehow, though, nothing happened and before too long, he managed to win the mini-battle for the check and Jennifer wished them a good afternoon.

Spencer looked even funnier in the driver's seat, Lorraine had told him, even with the seat pushed all the way back. His knees touched the sides of the steering wheel. The redhead giggled the entire way back to her apartment. Hawkeye had created the usual amount of noise and fuss at the door, still not sure he trusted this human with his mama, not with her feeling so off. Lorraine still went on with words tumbling from her lips. For his part, at this point, even the genius profiler of the BAU couldn't tell what exactly might be going on. She kept saying over and over that she wanted to get up and dance, for some reason, like she had more energy than she knew what to do with. Her body, on the other hand, had other ideas. Though her speech pelted on, directed movement visibly caused her struggle.

"I brought my N-64, if you want to blow off some steam with a Pokemon match," Spencer suggested, gesturing at the satchel by the couch – it appeared dry and unstained. "It's just, you should probably rest if you've been that sick."

Lorraine happily agreed and skittered across the living room floor to fight with the entertainment system, swearing as she pulled on wires. Spencer joined her, the two of them searching for the correct plugs. With that done, they plugged in Pokemon Stadium. Next moment, Lorraine let out another shouted profanity, discovering the controller cords did not reach the couch. Setting hers down, she started yanking on the arm of the couch with all her might. Her boyfriend would have been more impressed that she could actually shift the thing if he hadn't been so worried about her! He pushed himself up off the floor and refused to back down, helping her push the couch two feet closer. Still grumbling, she picked up her controller – the metallic gold one – and posted up.

The Stadium matches went two-out-of-three. Spencer swept the first match with a ground- and psychic-type team, frustrating Lorraine – she _had _to have Pikachu on every team. It had been a bit tight there between her Haunter and his Kadabra, but he got her in the end. Before the second match, the redhead vacated the couch and scooted down the hall. After a flurry of clattering and more shouted curse words, she returned with her Pokemon Yellow cartridge in hand and fished out an adaptor.

"How about we fight for real this time?" she challenged, brandishing the little yellow square right under his nose. "Stock's fine, but I want to see what _you've _been up to!"

Without a word at first, Spencer set his controller down and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek.

"Don't mind if I do!" he retorted playfully, one hand diving into his satchel and coming back with Pokemon Blue. "Let's see what you do against the greatest Venusaur ever raised!"

Okay, the super-genius profiler was never, ever, ever, ever, ever going to live that down – ever. His Venusaur fell in a spectacular, profanity-laced throwdown against her rapid-fire switch team of Pikachu, Charizard, and Gengar. Lorraine had actually leapt off the couch, thrust her controller into the air, and roared in victory. Something in the back of his mind spoke, as his girlfriend, worn out from the effort of screaming at the top of her lungs unceasingly for a solid ten minutes lay against him. It told him true love might just be two allegedly grown people cursing at little Japanese monsters together. He had no trouble getting behind that, he answered the voice in his head. For a guy who'd always felt a bit like Charlie Brown, he finally had his little red-haired girl, sound asleep at his side. With the Pokemon Stadium theme music still blaring from her entertainment system, he decided to join her in a nap.


	3. Not THE Doctor

**Disclaimer: **_**Can we all just still agree that Criminal Minds is still not mine? Lorraine and her animal buddies (and her illness) are mine. If you'd like to use them, please ask. If you want that illness, go get your head examined. I've been getting it on and off every few months since I was sixteen. So yeah, you're welcome to that.**_

Ch. 3 – Not THE Doctor

Spencer Reid was most definitely not awake enough to receive an elbow to the sternum, but that was precisely what he got. The Pokémon Stadium theme music assaulted his ears as his eyes shot open to see Lorraine go rocketing out of the room again. With surprising agility, she went banging down the hallway again. Once again, the genius heard his girlfriend being violently ill, cursing foully in between bouts of vomiting. This time, Spencer got up off the couch and found his way to the hall bathroom, digging through drawers for a washcloth. He remembered something his mother had done for him – wet the washcloth and then set it in the freezer for just a couple minutes. Hawkeye followed the tall, skinny human into the kitchen, just in case some kind of food hit the floor… just in case…

Of course, the giant dog found himself disappointed as Spencer leaned against the kitchen counter to wait for Lorraine. He heard the commode flush twice, another round of curse words he wasn't sure he had ever heard before, and then a solid _thud_. Wait, that's not good, he thought – that _thud _sounded rather horribly like a body hitting a floor. Hawkeye preceded the human out of the kitchen and bee-lined straight for his Mama. Spencer's stomach sank like a lead weight at the sight of Lorraine on the hall rug. Thankfully, she was conscious enough to sort of half-heartedly push Hawkeye's nose away from her face, but she couldn't manage much more than that. Normally, the profiler found the dog's unwavering loyalty touching, but he now realized he had to proceed with extreme caution. Sure enough, when he approached and attempted to reach for Lorraine, he heard the warning growl.

"Hawkeye, please," he tried, holding his hands up and well away from his girlfriend in an attempt to approach without angering the large dog. Frankly, he knew full well whose side Lorraine would take if it came down to a conflict here. "I'm… I'm not going to hurt her."

Hawkeye gave his mama's human a look that said "You put one hand on her, bub, and I'll snap you like a toothpick."

"Come on… I know you're trying to help!" Spencer felt ridiculous, talking to this dog like he was trying to talk down a triggered unsub. "You're… you're being so good, trying to help!"

He tried to force his voice to sound bright and enthusiastic, glad absolutely no one outside these walls would ever hear the attempt. The Landseer's expression had gone from "Hulk smash" to "Dude… Are you stupid?" and Spencer could practically _hear _the cat laughing at him from the doorway. Hawkeye sat back and eyed the human warily, but he did allow Spencer to move forward. Another growl caused the profiler to freeze when he reached one hand out to touch his girlfriend's shoulder. He couldn't figure out the best way to back away slowly, not all bent over like this.

"'Sokay, Hawk," whispered Lorraine, trying to reach for the dog. Hawkeye licked her hand, getting it quite sticky. "'Sokay, promise – Mama's fine..."

She sounded so very small and, he almost couldn't think the word, but she sounded _weak_. Lorraine simply did not _do _"weak" – even if she cried at almost every movie ever made and would actually break things trying to kill a cockroach with a hiking stick. Hawkeye, however, reacted favorably to her voice and backed off obediently. His great huge dark eyes did keep a close watch on Spencer as he lifted Lorraine into his arms and held her carefully to his chest.

This time, he brought her to her bedroom. She had left the bed a bit of a wreck, so, after he laid her down, he set to work fixing the covers. He recognized the signs of someone having slept quite fitfully from feverish discomfort. Lorraine made an unhappy-sounding noise and her hands pulled ineffectually at the fastener of her jeans. Spencer froze. Obviously, those couldn't be comfortable to sleep in, but he didn't feel it was appropriate to… Not when they hadn't… Well, they had _slept _in the same bed before, but there had never been any undressing of opposite parties to speak of. However, at the wide-eyed stare and plaintive little "_Please_" from Lorraine, he relented. He simply had to think clinically – this was just to make her more comfortable. Anything more and he would feel as though he were taking advantage of her.

Lorraine was about as helpful as a hammer where one needed a fountain pen. She couldn't find a comfortable position, she kept trying to turn over and do it herself, and none of it worked. Spencer couldn't help laughing, though, when she smiled up at him, mumbling an apology for being… like that. He did manage to get her jeans off and she settled into her blankets with a slightly wobbly smile. Next, he straightened her blankets out again and pulled them up to her shoulders. Everett hopped up onto the foot of the bed to investigate. The redhead and the cat looked quite contended for a moment. On the other hand, the profiler felt like he wanted to go wash himself down a storm drain or something. His face burned and he couldn't remember being so mortified in a good long time. He turned away and mumbled something about needing to get back to his apartment for… something or other. About halfway across the room, though, he heard a small voice.

"Spencer?" Lorraine asked again. He turned around to see her reaching for him from her careful arrangement of blankets. The redhead blinked at him in a way he found so adorable that he knew whatever she was going to ask next, he would say yes. "Stay with me?"

He started stuttering about not wanting to make her uncomfortable or take advantage, not having anything but his corduroys to sleep in, not wanting to disturb the Dog-Hulk… The baleful stare his girlfriend gave him, though, silenced the mini-rant. He did, however, ask her to wait for just a minute while he went and got something. This, she agreed to with only the slightest of pouts. First, he went and shut the television off, finally silencing the battle theme of victorious Pokémon. Next, he traipsed into the kitchen to retrieve the washcloth from the freezer. It hadn't yet actually got any frozen bits on it, but it did have the feeling that it would retain its temperature for a good minute. The profiler returned to his sweetheart's bedroom.

"I think this might help," Spencer informed her, showing her the washcloth in his hand. "Can I get you to turn over for me?"

Lorraine swallowed hard and Spencer almost re-thought his request, but she settled down all right, waiting expectantly. She smiled when her boyfriend sat on the edge of her bed and asked in the soft voice he had come to reserve only for her, "Is this okay?" as he touched the hem of her shirt. Nodding her consent, she nestled into her blankets more comfortably as a pleasantly cool hand pushed her shirt up to where a bra strap would be if she had bothered to wear one. Fevers had a tendency to make anything uncomfortable – like bras – go away.

Next moment, she could only gasp at the icy-cold washcloth trailing directly up the curve of her spine. Spencer lifted the cloth off her skin momentarily, smoothed her hair away from the nape of her neck, and then pressed the cloth there. As the cold water evaporated from her back and the icy cloth pressed down once more, Lorraine moaned softly. It felt wonderful and she lifted her head to smile at the boyfriend who cared so very much. This treatment continued until, surprisingly quickly, the cloth came almost to body temperature. It worried Spencer how high her fever still seemed to be, running one hand up her back, her skin still frighteningly hot against his palm. For a long moment, the two of them simply _were_, letting her back dry in the cool air of the room. Satisfied with this, Lorraine turned over and tugged on the front of Spencer's shirt – message received.

He scuffed off his shoes and clambered up into the bed with her. Everett hissed and leapt from his place in disgust. Spencer let his head hit the second pillow and lay rather stiffly beside his girlfriend. Lorraine yawned, sniffled oddly, and shifted over to him, tossing one arm across his chest and laying her head on his shoulder. Interestingly enough, that relaxed him enough that he wriggled one arm out to wrap around her. His girlfriend, already half-asleep, whispered something he couldn't quite make out, so he nudged her gently.

"Lorraine?" he used her name as a question. "What was that?"

Those brilliant eyes looked up at him when she lifted her head one more time.

"Thank you for staying," she told him, but somehow he knew that wasn't what she said at first. "You're so sweet…"

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and turned to hold her quite firmly in both arms. The redhead seemed pleased by this, cuddling as close as she could. A few barely-translatable little mumbles and he slid as smoothly as he could under the covers with her. It didn't matter that he was still in his T-shirt and corduroys – Lorraine just tangled up her arms and legs with his, her head on his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this content, even with the worries about her health. Gently, he allowed himself to trail a hand up and down her back. Even totally relaxed in his arms, Lorraine barely made a dent in the mattress. Something inside him had a way of enjoying the occasional reminder of how small she really was – it wasn't often he got to be bigger than someone. In his private mind, he was pretty sure even JJ could probably tear him in half if she wanted to.

"You're still going to get that checked out first thing in the morning," he whispered in her ear, trying to make it sound like an afterthought. "Trust me – I'm a doctor."

Lorraine made a grouchy noise against his chest.

"You're still not _the _Doctor!" she reminded him.

For once, Spencer could not bring himself to argue the point, instead settling down and listening to his girlfriend fall asleep – all felt right with the world.


	4. They Can Smell Fear

**Disclaimer: **_**Is it still not clear that Criminal Minds is not mine? Lorraine and her animal buddies (and her illness) are mine. If you'd like to use them, please ask. If you want that illness, go get your head examined. I've been getting it on and off every few months since I was sixteen. So yeah, you're welcome to that. And I've got it right now. I'm not quite okay…**_

Ch. 4 – They Can Smell Fear

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, the golden rays streaming in Lorraine's bedroom window and waking her most unpleasantly. Feeling hot, clammy, shaky, and bordering on panic, she shoved Spencer away from her and nearly fell out of the bed. Before her profiler-genius boyfriend really knew what was going on, she clattered on into the bathroom and he heard her be sick again. Hawkeye posted up outside the bathroom door and barked twice. He knew at this point that something must be badly wrong. The commode flushed once, followed by another round of rather horrible bodily noise that sounded like water pouring into water, then flushed again. Spencer, instantly awake, kicked his long legs out of bed and made for the bathroom door. It usually wasn't in his nature to bang on doors, but the lack of cursing from Lorraine had him worried.

"Lorraine? Are you all right?" he all but yelled at the closed door, smacking it with his fist one more time. He heard a pained noise and the unmistakable sound of a small body hitting tile floor. "I'm coming in!"

He did have to force the door, but it would be an easy fix once they got back around to it. Lorraine had only fallen to her knees and now leaned pitifully against her bath tub. Spencer knelt beside her, stroking her hair as she swiped convulsively at her mouth with a washcloth. Hawkeye took this as his cue to barge right in as well, poking his gigantic, drippy nose into the middle of everything. The redhead welcomed her large, furry friend and assured him that his Mama would be okay. A snuffling noise answered her as Spencer helped her up, trying to push the dog away with his knee. Lorraine's face had gone frighteningly white and she clutched her boyfriend's shirt as he half-dragged her back to bed.

"Okay," she choked out, sounding wry – the rest of her words sort of all spilled out in a great rush. "This is where I tell you I've been incredibly stupid and ask if you would please take me to a doctor before I get any worse."

Spencer's cool, thin hands felt amazing pushing her tangled red hair out of her face as he assured her that yes, of course he would get her taken care of. He kissed her forehead and let her have a moment to find some clothes she could go out in public in. Lorraine emerged from her bedroom wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a white Invader Zim T-shirt. She looked miserable, shivering as she walked and clutching at her bare arms. Shaking his head, the profiler brushed past her gently, steadying her shoulder so that she wouldn't fall, and reached for something on her dresser. It was an old thermal of his that she had taken to sleeping in when she stayed over and eventually wore home. With a shaking hand, she took it from him. Instead of putting it on, however, she seemed only to want to hold onto it. He didn't want to correct her at this point, helping her gather up purse and phone and keys as he guided her towards the door. Hawkeye whined as the two humans disappeared.

"Thank you… for putting up with me," Lorraine whispered as Spencer steadied her hand so that she could lock her apartment. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass."

A surprisingly strong arm gripped her in a side-hug and she looked up to see shining brown eyes as he reminded her that he did not just _put up with her. _Still perfectly mortified at the events of the past day or so, Lorraine could only stare at her navy blue Toms. Spencer helped her into the passenger side of her Civic and carefully shut the door. She didn't have the whatsis to laugh at his long, lanky frame crunched into the driver's seat this time, her face buried in the soft black thermal in her arms. The old silver Civic had seen better days – the suspension protested every irregularity in the road. With every bump and rough patch, Lorraine sounded as though she might cry. It was only a short distance to the immediate care center, but with city drivers, it took nearly twenty minutes. The redhead stared up at her boyfriend with sunken, hollow green eyes as they pulled into the parking lot. Something about her just looked _broken_.

Paperwork and a solid half-hour wait had Lorraine nearly a wreck – her hands shook as she tried to write and, with that done, she curled into her chair in the fetal position. Spencer wrapped one arm around her and leaned his head against hers, feeling her shake. She whispered something about being cold and he wished he could do more for her. It took entirely too long before a nurse appeared at the side door and called "Lorraine Quinn?"

"_Doctor!_" corrected both the speech therapist and the profiler in one voice. Lorraine blushed and croaked, "Sorry – it's kind of automatic."

The nurse, a redhead a few shades more orange than Lorraine, smiled brightly and corrected herself, offering a hand to help Lorraine come on back. Spencer kept his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, but – true to her spirit – she seemed insistent on making it on her own. No matter how much she struggled or pitched back and forth, she quietly refused to let anyone help. Still smiling, the nurse guided Lorraine and Spencer into an exam room. This time, she wouldn't let Lorraine refuse assistance, offering her a hand up onto the paper-covered table. She bade them both wait for the doctor and exited the room. Automatically, Lorraine curled up, leaning over her knees and holding Spencer's thermal tightly to her chest.

"You know, it'll keep you warmer if you wear it," the profiler nudged his girlfriend.

Lorraine only protested for a moment before disentangling her arms from the soft, black cotton and fighting the thing on over her head. Her boyfriend might be skinny, but he was long and tall, so the thermal hung off of her like a child's frame. The redhead took a deep breath. Spencer always smelled so good to her and she couldn't even place exactly what the scent might be. She curled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in her knees. The nausea refused to subside, even when Spencer came to her side, his long arms trying to keep her warm.

After a few minutes, they were joined by a tall, graying fellow who introduced himself as Doctor Langford. Spencer stepped back to let the doctor do his job. The usual, going over vitals and re-hashing her symptoms, et cetera, seemed to be little more than a time-suck to both Spencer and Lorraine. Langford asked Lorraine to lie back, prodding gently at her abdomen and looking concerned at her pained look. Upon discovering that she had not kept anything, including water, down in so long, he pronounced the inevitable. Lorraine made a small, half-pained/half-frightened noise as he told her that she would have to receive IV fluids. In a few minutes, he said, a nurse would be in to administer those and a shot of anti-nausea medicine. Out of habit, Lorraine told him "Thank you, sir" and nodded as he left – her face turned paler than even it had been this morning.

"I'm scared," she said to Spencer in her smallest voice a minute after the doctor left the room. "I hate needles."

Spencer twitched at the mention of needles – he wasn't exactly crazy about them either. Other than flu shots, he hadn't so much as looked at one since… well… _since._ He returned to her side, one arm wrapping tightly around her and stroking her tangled red hair with his other hand. Lorraine still shivered both from fear and cold, her head lolling to the side to rest against his shoulder. Gently, he moved his hand out of her hair to touch her face. Those green eyes, still shining unnaturally, fell shut and her dry, cracked lips smiled up at him – she loved it especially when he did that. His hands were soft and cool, so very comforting with her being like this.

"It's okay," whispered Spencer, sort of rocking his upper body back and forth in an extra effort to comfort her. "I promise you, I'll be here the whole time."

Lorraine said something that came out muffled into his shirt.

"Hold my hand?" she repeated when he asked, barely pulling away.

She did not protest his hand leaving her face to entwine with one of hers.

"And I won't even let go," Spencer told her, squeezing her hand carefully and kissing the top of her head. "You're going to be fine."

The redhead sounded like she might hyperventilate as short, quick breaths forced their way out of her open mouth.

"Promise?" she asked in a tiny, breathy voice.

With another kiss, this one on her forehead, Spencer assured his girlfriend that of course he promised – he just needed her to stay with him. She already looked like she might faint just from the thought of the events to come. It didn't take too long before another nurse – a brunette with black eyeliner and a Southern accent – came into the room. Her arms were full of plastic tubes, an IV bag, and an extremely conspicuous syringe. Before she could stop herself, Lorraine exclaimed "Oh dear God" and curled instinctively away, clinging to Spencer like a spider monkey. The nurse spoke reassuringly, her tone both brisk and maternal.

"I have to warn you," Lorraine told the woman softly, her voice strained. "I'm a fainter."

This just caused the nurse to smile, the expression actually comforting.

"Not a problem," she told the shivering redhead. "You won't be my first fainter. We'll just get you lying down."

The nurse set about adjusting the table's end so that Lorraine could put her feet up. First, she helped the redhead turn on her side. Zofran needed to go in a patient's hip. Feeling more nauseated after that, Lorraine tried hard not to look at all the things that had come in with her. Spencer squeezed her hand again as the nurse rolled back the black thermal's sleeve. He couldn't look at the assorted medical paraphernalia either, instead playing with Lorraine's fingernails. Something about how she cared for them, kept them looking so nice with being so long, intrigued him. It hurt him inside to listen to her trying not to cry as the alcohol pad came in contact with the inside of her arm. All of a sudden, he found himself with a nearly-broken hand. When the nurse had stuck her, Lorraine clamped her hand down on his with every ounce of strength she possessed.

"Spencer…" Lorraine breathed his name, trying to force her eyes back open after the nurse finished taping the IV in place.

She had turned a ghostly shade of green, the color even more frightening on skin that should be vibrantly olive. The nurse left the room with a promise to return and check on everything in a little bit, to which Spencer nodded and Lorraine squeaked. When the door clicked shut, she let out all the breath in her lungs in a shaky rush. Spencer, carefully not looking at her left arm and everything there, studied her face, seriously worried about the lack of color there. He had seen people look pretty bad – it came par for the course in his line of work – but she had started to move up there. The feverish roses had gone out of her cheeks, replaced by frightening chalky whiteness. Lorraine didn't look like she would stay conscious very long.

"Lorraine, sweetheart, you can't pass out," he tried telling her, squeezing her hand again and feeling panic start to swell in his stomach when she didn't squeeze back. "Talk to me, please?"

Those big green eyes with their brown centers blinked up at him uncertainly.

"About what?" she asked, obviously putting more effort into speaking than he felt she should have to.

"Anything," he answered, casting about for something to suggest. "Tell me about why you moved up here?"

Smiling with a vague look in her eyes, Lorraine did start to talk. She started to go on about how she had started her practice in Atlanta, but wanted to do more with soldiers coming home. So many of them had maxillofacial injuries and had to re-learn how to speak at all. Psychological issues impeded speech as well for these ladies and gentlemen. Her eyes got misty as she started to tell him about a boy who came home only twenty years old – had seen his K-9 killed in action. The boy's first word upon breaking his silence: "Buddy" – his dog's name. Tears started to stream from her eyes, touching Spencer's heart as well at that… Wait a second, why had she stopped talking?

"Lorraine?"

It was quite unpleasantly jarring to look down and see Lorraine's unique eyes staring up at nothing with her lips still parted from her last word. Spencer swallowed over the growing feeling of panic again and tightened his grip on her hand. He stroked her cheek again, encouraging her to stay with him, squeeze his hand, keep talking… Thankfully, she didn't stay out but for a few moments – privately, Spencer felt that might be enough to have taken ten years off his life. Lorraine seemed not to notice anything unusual, so probably best not to even mention it. She held onto his hand and it made several times she had done that before stand out. Eidetic memory or no, he would certainly never forget the serpentine grip she maintained on his hand throughout the entirety of _Wicked_! He smiled a little oddly, playing with the length of red curls that hung off the table.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart," he told her.

Lorraine smiled, looking more like she wanted to sleep than about to pass out again. It relaxed the both of them, Spencer especially at this point. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly, still worried at how cold her skin felt. It seemed to be taking the fluids longer than perhaps it reasonably should to drain into her arm. The redhead shifted uncomfortably, making a pained noise as the movement jarred the needle in her arm. Her boyfriend simply held her hand a little tighter, bringing it up to his lips and giving the back of it a comforting little caress. All they could do for the moment was stay like that and wait.


End file.
